


Parallel Triangles

by madsydva



Category: Sherlock (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - World War II, Bermuda Triangle, Episode: s06e03 Triangle, Inspired by The X-Files, M/M, Nazis, Ocean Liners, Time Travel, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: Sherlock is lost at sea without John and finds himself in a bit of a situation.





	Parallel Triangles

**Author's Note:**

> Ok… before you go all fandom judgey on me… this is a rewrite purely for the sake of a rewrite. X-Philes will know why I wanted to put our boys in this episode. For two scenes in particular. Enjoy the fluff and the angst and the adventure. If you are a Sherlockian just passing through I hope you enjoy. If you haven’t checked out The X-Files, it’s a great series and the fandom is just as diverse, friendly and active as the Sherlock fandom.
> 
> I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Waston. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffit, Hartswood Films, and the BBC!! (Insert Captain Martin Crieff here. :) )
> 
> I do not own the dialogue or storyline used here in. It belongs to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox.

Sherlock is slowly pulled into consciousness by a pressure under his arm pits. Rain spits at his face as he’s lifted out of the water. He hears yelling somewhere above him. _Storm. Boat Destroyed. Water Rescue._

“Easy boys! Easy! Steady up! Hold on mates! He’s almost up! That’s it! Give him a big pull! That’s it! Don’t drop him now. Come on. Pull him over. Put your backs into it!”

Sherlock is hoisted up and then set down on a hard ship deck, the rain pelting down around him. His face is patted by a cold clammy hand and he coughs, spitting up a bit of bitter ocean water.

“There he goes! Lots of life in him. Give it up, matey. Good for ya. That’s what you get for your trouble.”

“Maybe he’s just taking a long swim!”

“Yeah, or a short flight.” The men around him chuckle.

“Are you an airman, mate?”

Sherlock tries to lift his head to answer but not before he takes a heavy boot to his ribs. He grunts and rolls to his side, still coughing up water.

“No, he’s not dressed like an airman. Look at his hair!”

“Then what kind of uniform is that then?” He takes another hit to the side. “Sprechan Sie Deutsch, ja?”

“I say he’s a rat and we throw him overboard like a rat!”  
“Yeah!”

“Let’s give him the heave-ho!”

Sherlock is lifted off the deck and to his feet. The man holding him starts to drag him towards the railing. “How’s about another dip in the Atlantic, Dirty Jerry?” The man shakes him. “Oi! What you got to say for yourself. Jerry, before we throw you back in?”

“My name’s not Jerry.” Sherlock finally answers, a bit weakly.

“What’s that? Eh?”

“My name’s Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.”

One of the sailors scoffs. “Is that a name? Sherlock?”

“I’ve got an ID. In my pocket.”

The man holding him reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and pulling out one of the ridiculous business cards that John had made up. “Sherlock Holmes, Private Detective. Sorry, never heard of you.”

“Never heard of me?” Arms grab around Sherlock as the men start dragging him backwards. “You’ve not read John’s blog? Everyone reads John’s blog. Even me…. On occasion.”

“Why don’t you shut it, Jerry?”

Sherlock’s feet scramble for purchase on the wet deck as he tries to keep up with the men carrying him. “Where are you taking me?” They move out of the rain and off of the outer deck of the ship, making their way down a darkened hallway.

“How’d you pick up that posh accent?”

“In the Fuhrer’s Secret Service?”

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock huffs as he’s shoved back through a doorway.

“I say we cut him open and see what color he bleeds!”

“Dirty Jerry!”

“Deutschland uber alles.” The sailor says scathingly before spitting.

They move into a lit hall, with papered walls and thick decorative carpet underfoot. Luxury Liner.

“Deustchland uber alles? Hold on…” Sherlock tries to pull back.

“Oi!” The sailor holding him turns him roughly, fisting his coat. “How’s about you shove a cork in it, mate? All right?”

Sherlock nods, closing his mouth. They approach a door, labeled “Captain” and one sailor knocks. The door opens and the captain stands on the other side. He eyes Sherlock. “Aye? What’s this about then?”

The sailor leans towards the captain. “We found him in the water, sir. Don’t know nothing about him. I think he’s a German.”

“Bring the prisoner into my room.” The captain answers. Sherlock is shoved hastily through the door and into the captain’s quarters. The captain turns, hitting Sherlock across the face twice. “Friend or Foe?”

Sherlock tries to recover from the hit as two of the sailors hold him up, pinning his arms to his back. “Sorry… what?” Sherlock grunts.

“To what flag do you pledge allegiance?” The captain asks.

“I think there’s been a mistake. I think the mistake is mine.” Sherlock mumbles, staring off in thought.

The captain pulls back, hitting him again. “Speak the truth, man!”

Sherlock recovers quickly, standing taller as his deductions start to come together. “This is the Queen Anne.”

“Aye.” The captain answers pulling up to take another swing. Sherlock manages to get one hand free and pushes the captain’s hand down.

“That’s quite enough of that, don’t you think?” He continues. “I’ve been looking for this ship.”

Two of the sailors pull out knifes, holding them to his neck. “Say the word, Captain…”

Sherlock cuts him of. “I can explain what’s happened.”

“It’s a ruse, Captain.” One sailor warns.

“What’s our current position?” Sherlock asks.

“Cut the spy up.” The captain says gruffly. The sailors start to drag Sherlock back again.

“I’ll tell you then. We’re two degrees above the 30th parallel.” Sherlock struggles against the men, still spouting at the captain. “Sargasso Sea. Just above the tropic of Cancer. Sixty Four degrees west by southwest, off the Plantagenet Bank.” Sherlock pulls out of the grips of the sailors, standing tall, back in front of the captain once again. “Sixty miles south-southwest off Bermuda. How would I know that if I’ve been in the water?”

“Aye, that’s a damn good question, lad. I’m waiting for a damn good answer.” The captain sets his jaw.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you haven’t been able to get accurate compass readings. That navigation has been difficult. It’s because you’ve been caught in something called the Devil’s Triangle. I can show you.” Sherlock moves over to the desk, above which a world map hangs. “It goes from Bermuda down to Puerto Rico, back up to Florida.” He moves his finger in a triangle between the tree points. “The Queen Anne is stuck here on the eastern edge. You’ve been caught in a kind of time warp, a limbo dimension and now you’ve popped out the other side into 2018.”

“2018?” One sailor spouts.

“This man is mad!” says another.

“Let him tell it to the fishes!”

The captain steps up to Sherlock again. “I’m done foolin’ about. There’s a war on. And in it or no, I don’t plan to lose me mind, nor me ship, to the likes of a jackal like you.”

“Well, you can relax. There’s no war. Not in the Atlantic, anyway.” Sherlock says.

“Peace? It’s September 3rd, 1939, man. Hitler has entered Poland. We’ve been boarded by goose-stepping hooligans, so don’t speak to me of peace, lad. Tell Mother England.” The captain says angrily.

“No.. no, it’s not September 3rd. It’s November 16th. Look.” Sherlock pulls back his sleeve, showing the date on his watch.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. “Excuse me, Captain.”

“Aye?”

An officer steps into the room, wringing his hands in his hat. “Sir, the Germans, sir. They’ve taken control of the bridge. Steering a course for their homeland.”

“Not on the watch of Captain Yip Harburg, they’re not. Lock the prisoner up in here.” The captain heads out, the sailors following after him.

“It’s alright. The war is over. Let them take you to Germany. They make nice cars.” The door to the cabin shuts and the corner of Sherlock’s mouth turns up and he turns into the room. He brings his hands up to his mouth, scanning the room and sees a radio on the far wall. He goes to it quickly, switching it on and fiddling with the dials. He picks up the mouth piece and speaks into it. “Mayday. Mayday. My name is Sherlock Holmes. I’m on the SS Queen Anne.” They radio whines in response and he turns the dial again. “Ship in distress. Mayday. Mayday.” The radio whines and a broadcast comes through.

 _“….the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we head from them that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. No such undertaking has been received. Consequently, as of today, September the 3rd 1939, this country is at war with Germany.”_ Air raid sirens can be heard behind the radio announcer.

Sherlock’s face falls and he rolls back on his heels, bringing a hand to his mouth. There’s sound of keys in the door, and men speaking German on the other side of the door. “Hello? Hello?” Sherlock ducks into a darkened corner of the room as the man enters and steps into the darkness, only a small lamp lighting up the radio as the announcer continues.

 _“…closing places of entertainment. All cinemas, theatres and other places of entertainment are to be closed immediately until further notice. The evacuation of British children is going on smoothly and efficiently. The Ministry of Heath says…”_ The uniformed man steps up to the radio and leans on it to switch it off. Sherlock emerges from the corner quickly, trying to knock him out against the radio. This changes the radio broadcast to an upbeat Andrews Sisters song.

The man shoves Sherlock off of him, knocking him back. Sherlock takes a swing through the darkness, landing a punch and knocking the man out. He can see through the dim light coming through the open door the man is wearing a German Military uniform. He turns his face and recognizes the profile instantly.

“What is going on? Anderson?”

He starts undoing the coat and tie, keeping a close eye on the open door. Sherlock makes quick work of stripping this Anderson look-a-like to his vest and pants. Sherlock pulls a face at having seen more of Anderson than he had ever wished, and started stripping his own clothes to change into the uniform. He slips into the hall, turning away from the German soldiers checking rooms down the hall. They spot him and call out to him in German, Sherlock walks quicker away from them. They call out to him again and give chase when he doesn’t respond again. Sherlock starts up at a run down the narrow hall, turns a corner and ducks into a room. The soldiers jog past him.

He moves down the hall and ducks through another door way finding himself in a ballroom with a party going on. A live band is playing and couples are dancing, all dressed in 1930’s style clothing. Sherlock weaves through the dancefloor, taking everything in. He looks up at the singer on stage. Her make up is different and her hair up, but it’s Anthea, Mycroft’s PA belting out ‘Jeepers Creepers’.

Sherlock is reeling. He spins and moves off the dance floor not looking where he’s going in particular when he bumps into a man, short and compact. He's dressed in a suit and tie, his blonde hair combed and slicked back.

“Excuse me.” The man holds his ground. Sherlock looks down and his eyes almost bug out of their sockets.

“John!” Sherlock grabs him around the shoulders.

“I suggest you get your Nazi paws off me before you get one in the kisser.” John tries to pull out of his grip.

“No, John. It’s me, Sherlock.”

“Oh, you speak English do you? How’d you like for me to knock you into next week?” John fists into Sherlock’s borrowed uniform, shoving him back.

“I’m not a Nazi!”

“Oh, sure. You just look like one right?” John steps back and turns away from him.

“I had to steal this uniform, John, please…” Sherlock reaches after him, but there is a commotion at the back of the room and the Anthea look-a-like on stage stops her song to point at him and yells in German. There’s a gunshot and the dancing couples duck and scramble from the dance floor.

A Nazi soldier approaches Sherlock, pointing a gun at him and yelling in German. John stands off to the side still. “He says put your hands up.” He offers helpfully. Sherlock puts up his hands and two soldiers grab him pinning his arms.

“I told you.” Sherlock directs at John as he’s drug away. The band starts up again and the soldiers drag him roughly out of the ballroom.

“You’re such big men now, but just wait until you get to Russia. I hope you gentleman like the cold.” Sherlock spouts off. One of the soldiers knocks him behind the head, knocking him out. They drag him down the hall, through the ship and out onto the rainy deck again. Sherlock comes around as they start hoisting him up the stairs to the bridge. He struggles with them a bit but they manage to get him up the stairs and through the door.

The captain is holding his ground in front of the ships wheel, surrounded by Nazi soldiers. Directly in front of him is a Nazi officer, his back to the door. He’s short, probably the shortest man in the room, but all eyes were on him as he spoke in German to the Captain.

“Aye, you can put me down, man. But I’ll not let go of this wheel. So till we meet in hell!” The captain spits at the officer. The officer gives a short command in German and the solider standing next to him fires his pistol that was trained on him. The captain falls and slumps to the side, still gripping the wheel.

The officer turns, pulling a pack of chewing gum out of his pocket. Sherlock had already guessed whose face he would see when he turned. Even speaking German, the low rumble of his voice was unmistakable. _Moriarty._

He pops a piece of gum into his mouth as he approaches Sherlock and the soldiers holding him.

“You.” Sherlock looks down at him.

Moriarty speaks with one of the soldiers before addressing Sherlock directly, but in German.

“No sprechen.” Sherlock says.

Moriarty tries again asking him something else that Sherlock doesn’t understand.

“I don’t speak German.”

Moriarty shrugs, snapping his gum and gives the same short command that he had given before the captain was executed. The soldier to Moriarty’s right raises his pistol.

“Why are you shooting me? Why are you killing me? What have I done?” Sherlock asks, the pitch of his voice rising slightly. “I don’t understand what you are asking me!”

Another officer enters the bridge, calling out to Moriarty. He approaches them stepping into the light. Sherlock’s mouth nearly falls open. Lestrade. Lestrade hands Moriarty Sherlock’s wallet that he had left in his clothes. Moriarty looks at it and gives another order. The men holding Sherlock start dragging him out the door again.

“Lestrade? Where are they taking me? Greg, help me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to drop comments and suggestions if something doesn’t make sense. I struggled with the fact that in the original episode Mulder and Scully were the only Americans. I just went with the original dialogue in hopes that it would still fit. I tried to change Mulder’s mannerisms to Sherlock’s. I hope it all fits and this is at least good enough for a laugh!


End file.
